Sunday, April 5, 2015

Quizas, quizas, quizas


I'm listening to Milos Karadaglic's rendition of "Quizas, quizas, quizas" as I'm trying to post this entry. I don't know, but I feel like the mountains play this heart-flinching song as I hiked to the top. The song and the mountains feel the same to me. They give that strange happy-blissful feeling of being in love. And in the same manner, they feel like that overwhelming sadness of rejection.

On a totally different note, I've read somewhere - probably by Walt Whitman - that the secret of making the best person in us is "to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the Earth." I don't know what that really means, but it sounds good to me. I like walking bare feet on paved or unpaved ground. Something feels so different when I do that, like I've just unloaded something.

Quizas, quizas, quizas...

You won't admit you love me. And so, how am I ever to know? You always tell me, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. A million times I've asked you and then I ask you over again. You only answer, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. If you can't make your mind up, we'll never get started. And I don't wanna wind up, being parted broken-hearted. So if you really love me, say yes. But if you don't, dear, confess. And please don't tell me, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.



***Taken at Mt. Batulao, Nasugbu, Batangas (27-28 March) by Linds

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